


Stuck In A Cave With A Rope And An Enemy

by angellteeth



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Gen, ig??? - Freeform, its like the entire end, there is choking though, theres a little bit of a skuffle but not quite Graphic Depictions Of Violence, this was supposed to end so differently im qlsnalsm, unsure! What the fuck this is, ya feel?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:01:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28638948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angellteeth/pseuds/angellteeth
Summary: And you haven't eaten, drank, or gotten very meaningful sleep in several days and you're also stuck in hell.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	Stuck In A Cave With A Rope And An Enemy

Fiddleford wasn't sure how long he'd wandered, much less where he was.

The space outside seemed empty, for now.

In the distance he could hear voices, cackling and screaming. He didn't want to meet the owners of the voices. Not again.

He ran his thumb along a scar he'd gotten what could've been a day ago.

He wasn't sure.

He limped deeper into the cave.

It seemed to stretch on forever, leaving him in the dark to run his hand along the wall as the only thing grounding him. It was safer inside than out. He dreaded the thought of being caught.

Even so, the dark brought its own demons.

The whir of the portal hummed in his ear, no matter how hard he tried to drown it out.

The eyes stayed in the corner of his eyes, no matter how much he tried to blink away the after image.

The eyes.

 _His_ eyes.

His own partner's eyes, turned a sick yellow, watching Fiddleford be sucked into hell without a care in the world, leaving him to fend for himself with only a dummy, a rope, the clothes on his back, and anything he had in his pockets.

He'd ditched the dummy rather quick.

The cackling outside the cave seemed to be getting closer now. He walked faster, trying to keep his footsteps light.

He'd already been held for what may have been days, being poked at like a field mouse caught by the cat.

There was no way for him to tell the time. There was no day/night cycle in the forsaken place, and he slept to irregularly to rely on it for some kind of estimate.

All he knew was that he had to stay alive.

He limped deeper into the cave, away from the laughter.

There was a soft light ahead.

He approached it cautiously, gripping the rope in hand. It was the closest thing to a weapon he had.

The light was coming from a void in the ground, a few feet across, blue and spinning and _whirring_ , not unlike the portal.

He shuddered, stepping back.

Things that were everywhere outside. They may well get him out of there, away from the devils outside the cave, but he couldn't bring himself to get near one. Yet.

He'd build up a resolve, eventually.

Maybe when he was damn near starved to death. 

He skirted around the miniature portal, going deeper into the cave. He wanted it out of sight before he stopped to rest.

He started to walk slower, his hand still running along the wall. He hadn't eaten since the morning of the portal test, and he'd barely gotten any sleep. He certainly hadn't had anything to drink.

He was dying, he knew it. He'd die for sure if he stayed there. He was terrified to find out what lay on the other side of one of those portals.

Something echoed up ahead.

He stopped, almost in complete darkness, the soft glow of the miniature portal almost completely abandoned.

If it was one of those freaks from outside, he'd have no choice but to die or risk it.

He pressed himself up against the cave wall, as far into the shadows as he could without going deeper. He couldn't afford to lose the light or make any unnecessary noise. 

Straining his ears, he listened. One set of footsteps, coming his way, from a ways off.

It was likely that if he'd heard them, they'd heard him as well.

He held the rope, what was left of it wrapped around each of his hands with a length held taught in the middle. If needs be, he could choke something out.

He waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Until the thing was in the light of the portal.

And he sucked in the stale air, shocked.

Wandering the cave at the same time as him, was Stanford Pines, looking as fresh as a daisy that had been chewed up and spat out.

Stanford startled, and Fiddleford's grip on the rope tightened.

They stared at each other in the low light, only just able to recognize each other. Neither could see the other's eyes.

"Fiddleford?"

Stanford was the first to speak, in barely a whisper. He sounded hesitant, unsure, and almost terrified.

Fiddleford didn't say anything back, pressed against the cave wall still, not knowing what to do.

Here was the man who'd practically orchestrated his death, somehow caught up in the same hell as him now. It served him right.

They stared at each other, Stanford barely standing and Fiddleford only finding strength thanks to the cave wall.

Stanford stepped towards him, and for a terrified moment Fiddleford wished he was already dead, than for Stanford to finish what he'd started, whether it had been purposeful or not.

And then he decided what he would do.

He pushed away from the wall, letting momentum and gravity do the work and ramming into Stanford, falling on him in a heap.

Stanford's head made a noise when it hit the ground, leaving him dazed and breathless.

Fiddleford punched him in the nose while he had the chance, and wrapped the rope around his neck. There was no way he could hold him down without the extra leverage.

He pulled the rope tight, barely giving his former boss the right to keep breathing.

Again, there was a moment of silence between the two.

Looking into the place where Fiddleford knew his eyes to be, the shadows deepening slightly, he could almost see the sick yellow things despite the lack of light.

He started to shake.

"YOU IMBECILE! HAVE YA GOT THE BRAIN OF A TOAD?? YA'VE GONE AND GOTTEN US _BOTH_ KILLED!" He started to scream at the man, not caring to be cautious anymore. "I'D'VE RATHER DIED ALREADY THAN SEE YOUR FACE AGAIN!"

He tightened the rope around his neck, choking any response from Stanford before it came out. He didn't want to hear it.

He knew Stanford could barely breathe, and that he was likely to pass out eventually if he didn't let up. He almost wanted him to go unconscious. It'd be easier to deal with the consequences that way.

Stanford started to try and tear the rope away, trying to pull it loose and beat Fiddleford off him, to no avail.

They were both weakened, but only one of them had a steady supply of air.

Fiddleford tightened the rope, watching Stanford start to scratch his own neck open trying to get it to release. The cuts were only skin deep. He'd be fine. Fiddleford couldn't let go of the rope.

He held him there, counting the seconds until Stanford passed out. Then he could let go, run off, hide away and figure out what to do with himself.

While Stanford's efforts weakened, he considered staying. Not letting go. Not letting him breathe.

Stanford had gotten them both stuck there, ripped Fiddleford away from his family for what could be forever, given them each the death sentence.

He'd probably die anyway. Would it be merciful to kill him in the moment? Or was it just a vengeful fantasy.

He didn't think he could stomach a murder.

When Stanford went still, he let the rope go limp and stood up, and kept walking deeper into the cave.

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to follow the prompt of a fiddleford from one universe meeting a ford from a different universe except it doesn't quite read like that and it is not what I wanted it to be at all uh  
> Oops I Might Try Again


End file.
